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| My annual birthday read |
I've never understood why people.... women especially....find getting older some tragic situation. Or why they insist on injecting their faces with fillers and toxins so they look "young". More often than not, they just look like an escaped resident from
Madame Tussaud's. Today is my birthday and I'm 49 years old. Next year I'll greet a new decade milestone when I turn 50 and, truth be told, I can't wait!
I've foiled, colored, or highlighted my hair since I was in high school. Sometimes it looked lovely and natural and other times I just ended up looking like a fat old version of Billy Idol. Something clicked at the end of last year and I decided it might be nice to find out what color my hair really is and just how horrific it might look. Seven months later I can tell you it's no color that comes out of a box or salon and there are prominent streaks of grey. And I'm liking it....a lot.
Every year on my birthday I treat myself to re-reading the book
The Art of Growing Up by Veronique Vienne with photographs by Jeanne Lipsey. This is something I've done since I turned forty. It wasn't a conscious decision....it just happened the first few years and has now become a tradition. It's a short book and every year I garner some new insight depending on where I am in my life, career, or relationship. There is never a year, however, the "The Best of
Mae West" page doesn't make me laugh and wish I had been lucky enough to have a drink with her. My favorite? "I only like two kinds of men: domestic and foreign"
I think my perception of aging is helped by the fact I don't look at starlets and models in their 20s and 30s and wish I could look like them. For years, I've looked at the grand dames and said to myself, "God, I hope I'm that fabulous at their age!" It makes aging something not to be feared, but rather something to work toward....loving every step of the journey!
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| Sunrise over Lucky Hill...our next chapter...on my birthday morning |
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